Thursday, April 2, 2009

Some things about nice weather suck

Do you ever have days where you just wake up insanely happy? Today is one of those days. I don't know what the deal is. I woke up an hour early after just five and a half hours of sleep, and I still feel like I could conquer the world. Maybe I will.James's work has its wellness program today. They leave by noon, which means Grace and I have to get there midway through her morning nap. Awesome! Hopefully she's not a crankypants all day. Aside from needing to be held all.the.time, she's been incredibly good-natured for the past week or so. I hope this is permanent. Well, except for the needing to be held. I wouldn't mind it so much if she weren't so danged squirmy all the time. It's like carting around a live bowling ball.

This makes diaper changes a whole lot of fun, let me tell you. She really likes the bars on her changing table and constantly twists herself around to grab at them and try to chew them (the chewing, oh my goodness, the chewing). Half the time she ends up face down on the table with me struggling to put her diaper on before she can pee all over everything. Once again, coked-up octopus.At her last checkup a week ago, she was 82nd percentile for weight and 99th and 98th for height and head circumference. The doctor assured us this was normal for breastfed babies, and she still looks pretty fat to me, so I'm not worried. If this keeps up, she'll be 6'4" and skinny as a rail just like her father. James is pretty sedentary, and yet he still disappears if he turns sideways. Stupid jerk.We had a city-mandated appraisal yesterday. I was all het up about it because he came during The Child's nap. I was sure he was going to insist on seeing that one room, but he didn't. If I'd known that, I wouldn't have gone to all that trouble hiding the marijuana plants.

The guy had no sense of humor. When he went into the basement, and I yelled, "Be careful! I call it the Pit of Despair!" he didn't even laugh. I'm pretty sure he thought I was crazy anyway. When he first arrived, he had to ask me a few questions about the house. While he was doing that, I saw a spider on the doorway between the living room and dining room. I completely zoned out while he was talking and started stammering and doing what looked like the potty dance. "Spider. There. A spider. There's a spider. I'm sorry. I have to kill it. I'm not crazy. Just really phobic. Spider. There. On the doorway. Spider. Just give me a second." So I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the fly swatter.

Then I came to my senses and realized that if I tried to swat the thing with the fly swatter, I would probably miss, and then it would crawl down the handle into my nose and eat my brain. So I left it on the doorway and started shifting from foot to foot and wringing my hands. I could feel my face flushing and my hands sweating. "I'll just wait 'til my husband comes home. He'll get it. He better get it. I'm not a lunatic. Really. Just... spiders. Spider. Spider." I was a little pissed because he wouldn't kill it for me. It clearly did not make him nervous, so why couldn't he kill a dang spider for a poor, defenseless woman? What was wrong with him? He didn't laugh at my joke OR kill the spider. I have decided that, despite his being a very nice individual, he was the biggest jerkhead to ever live.

Spiders have been popping up everywhere since the weather started turning. And I do mean EVERYWHERE. One popped out of Grace's diaper bag the other day, and I nearly died. James would have come home hours later to find me, dead on the dining room floor and The Child screaming to be let out of her Bumbo. Welcome home, honey!